


Yurumu

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Relationship(s), Season 2, spoilers obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Elektra leaves Matt alone in Roscoe's house, he has to get home. Preferably before the police show up.</p><p>And deal with the fallout of whatever their relationship was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yurumu

**Author's Note:**

> Title (Yurumu) in Japanese means to become loose, to slacken. According to google anyway. It's pretty much the opposite of Kinbaku, which is the episode title I'm filling in the scene from, which means tightly bound or to bind tightly. It's also a kind of bondage, so maybe don't google it.
> 
> Written for this prompt: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/7552.html?thread=14708096#cmt14708096

As he's giving the operator the name of the man who killed his father, the man whose blood was still on his hands, he realizes that there are only two heartbeats in the room. He turns back, but Elektra is gone, leaving only the unconscious man behind and a door open in her wake. The operator asks for an address, but Matt realizes he doesn't know it, doesn't know where he is, how he's going to get home, what the _hell_ he's doing.

He tosses the phone back on the table, the operator repeating the question. He figures they can track it.

 

The sound of the car revving startles him, since he was sure he still had the keys. Matt pats his pockets. Gone. She must have grabbed them off him at some point, who knows when. Maybe she knew that it was going to end this way and wanted to be prepared.

 

But... she sounded so disappointed when Matt refused to kill him. She actually thought he'd go through with it. Or maybe she'd just hoped.

For all she did know about him, maybe she didn't really know Matt at all.

 

He probably had ten minutes before cops would start showing up, and he didn't want to still be there when they did. How would he explain what happened? Every version of events he imagined ended up with him being arrested and never being able to become a lawyer. In avenging his father, he would ruin the thing his father wanted most for him.

So he had to leave.

But Elektra had taken the car, not that he could have driven it, but it did have his things in it. His cane and his coat, with his wallet and student card that functioned as a bus pass.

And he had no idea where he was.

They'd driven for a while, but Elektra could have driven them in circles for the hell of it, just to enjoy the breeze and the rev of the engine. He could be in New York, New Jersey, hell, maybe even Connecticut or Pennsylvania.

 

He tries to remember something about the drive, anything, which way the sun was coming from, anything she had mentioned as they drove past.

 

Roscoe groans a little bit and startles Matt. He's still unconscious though.

 

The sun. They were driving into the sun, because Elektra was complaining about it. Matt offered her his sunglasses at one point. Midmorning, driving into the sun, meant they'd headed east. So probably still in New York, somewhere on Long Island.

Which meant if he headed west, he'd eventually end up back in Manhattan.

With one last scan of the house to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Matt heads out the doors and down the street, pausing only for a moment to turn his head towards the sun like a meerkat to determine which direction to go.

 

He heads west, sticking to main roads, letting his senses in enough so that he can tell where sidewalks are and where roads grow too large and become highways. As long as he walks like he knows where he's going, and that he can definitely see, he knows no one will stop him.

 

Hours later, when the sun is low in the sky, threatening to dip beneath the skyline, Matt comes to recognize his surroundings. The planes flying overhead were louder and more frequent- he was near the airport. Which meant the Queens campus of St John's University should be near him, just north. If he could get there, he could call Foggy to come get him, on the bus or something, he really doesn't care anymore.

With a goal and a plan sparking renewed energy, Matt continues to trek.

 

He's almost there, can smell the alcohol that permeates every college campus on the weekend. Not many people are out, which may be for the best, but there is someone not far from him.

He desperately wishes he had his cane still, anything that could make this less awful for him. At least his eyes are still covered by his sunglasses, which should lend credence to his story. Other than the thing where his eyes are unresponsive to light.

 

He holds one arm out a bit, like he's feeling for obstacles in his path, just in case the other person gets suspicious. Matt's not even sure if they're looking at him or facing him. He should be able to tell, why doesn't he know?

He stumbles a bit on the uneven edge in the sidewalk he didn't notice, _stupid stupid,_ and the other person turns towards him.

 

“Hey man, are you alright?”

Matt desperately wants to refuse any and all help, but he knows he can't make it home alone. He does need help this time.

“Do you have a phone I can use?” he asks.

Matt notes him scanning him, spotting the glasses, and can practically hear him jumping to conclusions.

“Oh. Are you blind? What are you doing here? You lost?”

“Yeah, but I'll be okay. I just need to get home. Do you have a phone I can use?”

The guy nods, pulling it out of his pocket.

“Yeah man, who do you need to call.”

“My friend at Columbia. I don't know the exact number, but if we call the dorm-”

“Don't worry, I got you. I've got a friend who goes there. Want me to dial?”

Matt nods. “Thanks.”

 

“Hello?” Foggy answers.

“Hey, it's me.”

“Matt? What are you doing? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he assures him. “But I do need you to come pick me up. I think I'm at the Queens campus of St John's University.”

The owner of the phone corrects him.

“Nah man, this is York College.”

Well. A few blocks too south, but it would work.

“York College,” he corrects himself. “Apparently I'm at York College.”

“Wow, okay, yeah, I can get there. But what happened?”

 

“It... it didn't work out with Elektra,” he whispers.

“And she just left you? What a bitch. Okay, I'm coming Matt. I'll be there in like an hour. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Money for the bus. I left my wallet in her car. And my jacket. And my cane.”

Foggy swears.

“It's fine, it's okay, I'm sorry,” he apologizes. “I'm going to hang up now, you stay right where you are and I'll come get you.”

Matt nods, and Foggy disconnects the line.

Matt hands the phone back. “Thanks,” he says.

“Sure, no problem. Someone's coming for you?”

Matt nods. “My friend. He shouldn't be long.”

“Nice. Do you want me to wait with you?”

He definitely does not want that. He shakes his head. “I'll be fine. Is there a bench or something around I can sit on?”

The guy turns and scans the area. “Yeah, there's one just down there.” He points. “Um.”

“It's alright. Would you mind taking me?” Matt asks, shoving down the shame in needing to ask for help.

“Oh, sure. How do I do this?” he asks.

“Just let me take your elbow, and try not to steer me into anything,” Matt tells him.

He thinks the guy smiles.

“Alright, elbow,” he announces, poking Matt's hand with it. “And we're off.”

 

“Things not work out with your girlfriend?” he asks. “She just kick you out of her dorm room and leave you to wander the streets like a stray dog?”

“Something like that,” Matt admits. He doesn't add the part where he's been walking for most of the day after being given the chance to kill the man who murdered his father. Absently, he wonders if his knuckles are still bloody, and if the guy who's leading him will notice.

“Bench right here,” he announces, and Matt sits himself down. “Sure you don't want me to stay?”

“I'm sure,” Matt assures him. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem. Good luck with your breakup and everything.”

Matt nods, and listens as the stranger heads off into the night. He doesn't even know his name, nor will he ever.

 

He meditates a bit, and it's over an hour later when he starts to get worried that maybe Foggy got lost, that maybe he gave him the wrong directions, that he will be alone on this campus for the rest of the night.

He quells the fear, reminds himself that he didn't tell Foggy where on the campus he was, for the exact reason that he didn't know. And searching in the dark would take him some time.

Foggy would come for him. He said he would. Matt just had to be patient.

 

It's an hour and a half after he made the call that he hears another person coming towards him, and recognizes them as Foggy from the heartbeat.

“Jesus Matt,” Foggy says, rushing over to check that he was okay, pulling him and pushing him to get a look at all sides. “I was so worried the whole time I was headed over here.”

“I'm sorry for that. I'm okay, really. Thanks for coming.” Matt gets to his feet, but Foggy is still skeptical, examining him for another moment before he seems satisfied.

 

Foggy nudges Matt with his elbow, and when Matt takes it, Foggy clamps another hand on top, like he's afraid of losing him.

They set off, walking in silence for a few minutes except for Foggy warning Matt about curbs and steps.

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” Foggy asks finally.

“I really don't want to right now Foggy,” Matt sighs.

Foggy nods. “I'm letting you have it because it's been a long day and I'm assuming you're still emotional, which is fine by the way. But we will have to talk about what happened eventually, so I'm just throwing that out there.”

“I know,” Matt tells him.

They're quiet for a few more minutes and in the meantime, hop on the bus which has shown up, Foggy feeding the coins in for Matt.

 

“What would have happened if I wasn't home?” Foggy asks. “What would you have done?” He continues without letting Matt answer, which he's relieved about. “This is why you need a cellphone,” Foggy mutters. “I know that you can't really afford it, but we can get like, a dirt cheap one and just pay as you go, for emergencies like these.”

“It would have been left in my coat pocket along with my wallet and been just as useless,” Matt says patiently. He doesn't mention how the only phones he'd be able to afford would not have the accessibility features he'd need.

Foggy huffs and grumbles and mutters something under his breath that Matt doesn't listen to. He's tired and his feet hurt and he's conflicted about what he'd done that day. He liked hitting the man. He enjoyed it. Even when his nose broke and Matt could hear it.

Realizing that disgusts him, because it didn't bother him. He should be bothered more.

 

But he's also too tired to overthink it.

He makes a note to himself that he needs to go to confession.

 

They get off the bus and switch to the subway, and Matt might fall asleep briefly, because the next thing he knows Foggy is shaking his shoulder and leading him off. He grips Matt's hand to his arm again tightly, and he's thankful because the lack of sleep is catching up with him, and he hasn't eaten and he's not sure he'd be able to walk a straight line if his life depended on it.

 

Soon their dorm looms in the distance, and Foggy's grip on Matt's hand loosens, but is still present.

 

“You'll have to call the bank, get them to cancel your credit card. That can wait until you've slept. And you'll have to get another student card, but the office won't be open until Monday. We can go after contracts.”

Matt nods, relieved that Foggy is thinking about all these things.

“And I don't mean to stress you out, but you have missed a lot of classes. We have a legal methods test coming up this week, and I don't think you've been to the last four classes.”

“If you email me your notes I can go over them.”

“I suppose I can do that,” Foggy agrees.

They're at the dorm now, and Matt could probably find his way back without Foggy's guidance, but he doesn't tell Foggy that. The touch is reassuring.

 

The stairs are arduous, and by the time they reach their room, Matt all but collapses into bed, toeing his shoes off before attempting to pull the covers up.

Foggy takes pity on him and tugs them up around him.

“Foggy... I'm sorry. You were right,” he admits, thinking back to all the times Foggy had warned him that skipping class for hanging out with Elektra was going to come back to bite him. But even Foggy couldn't have foreseen this ending.

“Yeah, I know. I just wish I wasn't.” Foggy sighs, and pats Matt's back through the blanket before getting to his feet.

“Just... get some sleep, okay buddy? I'm sure things will look better in the morning.”

Foggy's apparently so distraught he doesn't even try to apologize for using a seeing term.

Matt curls up slightly smaller and smiles a bit.

“Okay,” he agrees.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning there is a package for him. It contains his wallet and his cane and the sweater he'd been wearing the night before, everything that he left in Elektra's car.

There's also a note.

Foggy seems uncomfortable even mentioning it, but he still offers. “Do you want me to read it?”

Matt shakes his head. He knows that he'll be able to distinguish Elektra's writing with his fingers. “I can use my screenreader program,” he lies.

Foggy nods. “I nodded,” he adds.

Matt smiles.

He shakes his cane out, but still reaches for Foggy's arm to guide him back to their room. Foggy doesn't seem to mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, when Foggy has gone out to get a drink with the girl from their torts class, and he is trying to absorb the knowledge from three weeks of classes, he pulls out the note. The envelope smells like her.

He traces his fingers over her writing, almost too light for him to make out, but he does, because it matters.

 

_Figured you might need these back. I'm not completely heartless Matthew._

_I thought you understood me. I guess we were both wrong._

_Don't look for me._

_Elektra_

 

Matt sets the letter down and sighs. He has no doubts that he did the right thing in not killing that man. But he supposes he'll always wonder what could have been with her.

 

He slips the letter back into the envelope and tucks it in a desk drawer underneath some other loose paper. He turns his attention back to Foggy's legal methods notes. He has a lot to remember if he wants to pass the upcoming test, get his life back on track, make his father proud. 


End file.
